


Tragically Yours,

by milktxt



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Based on Love Simon, Johnny is oblivious, M/M, Mark Lee's Mom is the best character, Romance, Teenage Drama, Ten is sadistic, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milktxt/pseuds/milktxt
Summary: "There’s nothing more punk rock than two gay boys anonymously emailing back and forth about their feelings."Or in which Johnny replies to an anonymous confession, and everything goes downhill from there.





	Tragically Yours,

Johnny likes to believe he has everything figured out. Granted, he doesn’t really know where to go after high school ends - or what to do, he isn’t particularly good at anything and doesn’t have any particular goal in mind... Okay, maybe Johnny doesn’t have anything figured out at all, but so do millions of other 18-year-olds all over the world, so technically he’s all good. As good as a useless, completely closeted gay 18-year-old kid can be. 

Johnny doesn’t really know what he’s so afraid of. His parents are the liberal type; they raised him on kale juice and eliminating the patriarchy. If anything, they’d give him a pat on the back and tell him to invite his boyfriend for dinner. And yet, there’s something about coming out that is so unsettling to Johnny. Change is scary - he’s had the same life since he was born, went to school with the same people, and ate at the same places. He isn’t ready for a change just yet.

It’s like popping a bubble, Johnny concludes. He doesn’t want to pop it yet. He can’t afford to lose his group of friends. They play volleyball together, they go out for coffee after school every single day and meet on weekends. What if Mark thinks Johnny is disgusting and stops inviting him to his mom's little coffee place? The second to last table on the left with the little crack in the corner has the best natural lighting for selfies. And then there’s his dream of escaping the hellhole that is their little town in the middle of nowhere, USA. Maybe he’ll come out then. It’s easier to come out in a Skype call from the other side of the country when you know you might never see these people ever again. Maybe then, he’ll fully live “the gay experience”, whatever that means.

Okay, It may be a little bit too irrational of a fear, but it’s there. Johnny’s insides churn at the sole thought of saying “I’m gay” out loud. So he doesn’t. Ever. Except for that one time when he abruptly came out to his best friend in the middle of the night.

Joy makes Johnny feel like she’s an extension of himself, in a way. Joy calls them telepathic siamese twins. Johnny shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Joy’s groggy, half asleep “You woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that?”

“What?” Johnny stops, hovering over Joy’s annoyed face.

“What…” 

“I came out to you, and you tell me this?”

“What did you want me to say? Cry and tell you I can’t see you the same way anymore?”

“Obviously, no-“

“Is it a hug that you need?” She cuts him. Her tone is exasperated, but there’s a lingering fondness that makes Johnny’s worries disappear. The hug he gives her is bone crushing, the position is awkward, Joy's head is smashed against Johnny’s armpit. But at least the discomfort keeps the tears from free falling 

“Heh, nice.” It earns him a slap on the shoulder.

 

-

 

They have a lot of nights like this one. They’re both sitting cross-legged on Johnny’s unmade comforter, leaning against his wall, which is littered with posters of various rock bands. There’s a random movie playing. His parents think the movie is camouflage for some rated things they might be doing upstairs. It isn’t, but it doesn’t stop Johnny’s mom from screaming “use condoms, have fun in moderation.”

Joy chokes on her buttery popcorn, and Johnny has to aggressively tap on her back to keep her from dying 

“Why does this have to happen every single time?" 

“It doesn’t stop being fucking hilarious!” Joy snickers, as if she weren’t choking only five seconds ago. She throws a handful of popcorn at Johnny’s direction, which hits him right on the face. “Slam dunk.” It unsettles Johnny, who tries his best to prevent the smaller buttery bits from sneaking up his nose or his eyes.

“You do this every time, this is not a fun game.”

 “It’s more fun than what your mom thinks we’re doing in here.” Joy grabs her phone to check her Instagram for the umpteenth time today.

 “I hate you, shut the fuck up.”

 “Don’t swear, I’ll tell your mom.” She mumbles with a yawn. She's scrolling down her feed, double tapping posts about makeup, inspirational quotes, and half-naked male models. The latter sparks Johnny’s interest for a little more than a second.

 “If you knew you weren’t going to be watching the movie, then why did you make me download all 16 chick flicks? My laptop is overheating.” The forgotten movie is playing in the background. Joy is sending silly selfies to their group chat, and Johnny's trying to pick between one too many candy bars.

 “You should definitely microwave them, then freeze them back into some monstrous Franken-candy bar.” Joy absent-mindedly suggests, ignoring his previous statement. Her eyes are fixated on her phone, picking between Snapchat filters. “Snapchat filters are getting so boring. America needs to up their game when it comes to filters…”

 Johnny nods. He doesn’t know much about filters, he’s more of an OOTD type of person.

 “You know what, next time we actually spend the night together-”

 “You mean tomorrow? Also, please don’t phrase things this way, it reminds me of my mom’s warnings.” Johnny shudders.

 “ANYWAYS. I was saying, next time, we should do other stuff. We never end up watching the movies. Like… What do gay guys do when they hang out with friends? Wanna paint my nails? Or give me fashion advice?”

 It makes Johnny cringe a little, but he doesn’t take offense at that. “Stuff gay guys do, like watch Naruto?”

 “I knew it!” Joy points at Johnny in an accusing way. “You’ve always had the hots for Sasuke.”

 Guilty as charged. But again, who didn’t? The threatening gay western theme song for Sasuke did things to his thirteen-year-old heart. Plus, there’s no way that anime is straight anyway. 

“Remember this confession from this kid on the town’s confession board who was sure he had psychic sex with Hinata?” Johnny definitely remembers. Joy had made everyone at school believe it was Johnny who wrote that confession. “Which reminds me; we should check out the board. 

The town’s confession board is nothing but a glorified Tumblr blog that people use to share their secrets. It used to be popular back in the days - as popular as a blog about a 35,000 inhabitants town can be. Traffic started slowing down little by little to become this cluster of inspirational quotes, love confessions and ads for small businesses. It doesn’t deter Joy from being the avid gossip digger she’s always been. She makes sure to check out the board at least once a day for that one gem in the middle of the pile of trash that’s accumulated. Johnny doesn’t care, though. He unwraps another bar as Joy uses his laptop to browse through confessions.

“Oh my god, Johnny you should read this one!” She says it every time, so Johnny takes his sweet time to look up from tediously folding the candy wrapper. Apparently, Joy doesn't have that type of patience. She yanks him by the sleeve, almost pulling Johnny’s face into his laptop screen.

“Ow, can you stop being so violent for half a split second?”

“Shut up and read this. It was posted thirty-five minutes ago.”

 

_Dear anyone, whoever has the time and patience to open this forgotten fossil of a Tumblr blog._

 

It makes Johnny cackle a little.

 

 _Wow, my hands are sweating as I type this… It’s hard to say it, even if it’s anonymously in a blog no one bothers to check. Hi, I’m Zero and I’m gay. Writing this word is an emotional rollercoaster all by itself. I’ve been typing these three letters, then deleting them. It feels so good and yet, it feels like my heart was squeezed out of my chest and put into the word “gay.” I hate that there’s so much of “me” in a simple three letter word._  

_Zero isn’t my real name, I don’t think my parents hate me THAT much, but I truly feel like I’ve hit rock bottom as I’m writing this. Hence the Zero. I’m that closeted gay kid every town has - yes, even this one. I go to school like everyone, I do my grocery shopping and all... I even go to church; although I hate it so much. Good thing I’m a great actor, my parents still think I’m enthusiastic about going EVERY. SINGLE. SUNDAY._

_But I’m not writing this as my coming out or something, I just want to meet someone. You see, there’s no way in hell that a town of 35,000 people only has one gay kid. I am sure there’s a fellow closeted flaming homosexual who wants to fall in love. Please come forth and let’s play something fun. There’s this theory that says that 36 questions are all it takes for two people to fall in love, and I want to test it out. So if you’re around 17 or 18, let’s fall in love._

_Zero._

 

“Isn’t this perfect for you?” Joy sneers as she elbows Johnny, who gives her an unfocused nod. His eyes are on his laptop screen as he reads the confession over and over again. 

“You’re not following me, are you?”

“Uh huh…” Johnny absent-mindedly replies, and for some reason, it makes Joy explode in laughter.

It feels like my heart was squeezed out of my chest and put into the word “gay.” I hate that there’s so much of “me” in a simple three letter word.

Johnny reads that sentence over and over again like a mantra. That’s exactly what he feels, and he’s been struggling to put it into words for so long. Then, this guy comes in and phrases it in a sense that makes Johnny want to type a “YES! THAT’S IT, THANK YOU.”

Joy’s hand waving over his face is what snaps him out of his mind.

“Mrs. Johnny? Oh my god, she’s fucking dead!” Joy jokes, open hand still annoyingly waving way too close to Johnny’s face.

“Please stop…”

The great thing about Joy, Johnny thinks, is that she’s quick to read his mood. Right now is no exception. She rests her hand on Johnny’s lap and the look on her face goes from mocking to concerned in a split second.

“It hit close to home, huh?”

“I guess…” He pauses for a second, seemingly at a loss of words. Or maybe he’s just trying to phrase the downpour of thoughts that are running through his mind right now. It’s a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that render Johnny completely speechless. He’s relieved that someone else feels the same way and lives the same experience he’s going through. At the same time, knowing there’s someone else out there who’s deep into a dusty closet is nerve-wracking.

“You should answer him.”

“No way in hell!” Johnny abruptly turns to face Joy. His neck joint pops and he winces a little 

“Why not? Maybe you’ll finally end up with a boyfriend. 

“Very funny.” He deadpans. “Do you seriously believe that 36 questions are all it’ll take for two people to fall in love?”

“Honestly, I think it’s bullshit.” Joy takes a second to consider it. “But you may at least end up getting a friend out of this. One who’ll understand your struggles more than I do.”

“Because one homo wasn’t already too much for the town to handle, they get two. And get that; they are friends now!

“Two homo homies!” It makes Johnny chuckle a little.

 

\--

 

Johnny thinks about it later. It’s a fleeting thought that goes through his mind as he’s about to fall asleep. Or so he wishes he could say. Johnny lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling as he thinks about it. About this guy who goes by the name of Zero, who just puts Johnny’s worries into a coherent sentence, and who has invaded his mind.

Joy is asleep on the other side of Johnny’s bed, hogging all the blanket to herself as per usual. He’s pretty sure nothing can wake her up. Joy is known for her deep sleep and her tendency to kick and wrestle in her slumber. Johnny thinks it’s pretty cute when she isn’t slamming her fist into his nose bridge by accident. 

“I hate you for showing me this confession.” He angrily mutters, poking an accusing finger at his best friend’s cheek. He pulls back immediately, though, because he doesn’t trust his own luck with Joy’s scary sleeping habits. She could bite his finger off, and he wouldn’t even be surprised. 

Johnny hops off the bed to take a seat on his desk chair and turns on his laptop. The harshly lit screen that attacks Johnny’s unprepared eyes reads 3:30. Johnny knows that everything he does past three in the morning ends up being a bad idea.

“Fuck this. Yolo, I’m doing this.” He turns on his small desk lamp and opens the town confession board.

There are a few candy bars scattered on his desk, the ones spared from his earlier chocolate binge. He grabs a random bar as he reads the confession for the hundredth time.

That’s when it hits him. This zero guy is a real person. He’s real and alive, and he must be sitting in front of his laptop waiting for someone to answer him. He probably goes to their school and has a clique. Perhaps he’s even part of his clique… Upon further consideration, probably not.

Joy would be laughing her ass off if she were awake. Johnny instinctively turns around to double check, only to find her completely passed out in the dead center of his bed. She’s someone who understands him; maybe he doesn’t even need another gay guy to relate to his feelings. No one understands him more than Joy does, anyway. And yet, there’s still this weird sensation gnawing at him and this little voice that tells him to go for it or he'll regret it for the rest of his life. Johnny has never been great at ignoring his gut feeling.

And it’s at this time of the night, in the confines of his dimly lit bedroom, while his best friend is softly snoring on his bed, that Johnny messages the mysterious Zero, hoping that the feeling eating him up alive will dissipate.

 

_From: irregular127@gmail.com_

_To: zeropercent@gmail.com_  

_Hey, Zero._

_I’ve been typing and deleting this email for the past ten minutes. I’ve been experiencing that emotional roller coaster you’ve talked about so well… Too well that I haven’t been able to get a wink of sleep. Can we cut to the chase? I think it’s for the better, I could ramble on for days._

_I’m gay too. Been that for a while and keeping it for myself has been especially terrible lately. I feel like it’s going to grow and expand and one day I'm gonna explode into a rainbow-colored goo. As you can see, I’m not as good with words as you are._

_Anyways, I don’t believe in this whole 36 questions theory, but I’m willing to give it a try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll at least have a shitload of useless information about a stranger online that I might never meet._

_Gayly yours,_

_Your potential sweetheart._

 

**(1)**

 

Johnny’s body is a traitor. It’s a mechanical clock wired to perfection. It saves him from being late on school days, but he’s currently cursing the heavens for having a biological clock that doesn’t let him sleep past 9 am. Johnny's had a whopping four hours of sleep the previous night. He was too busy overthinking each one of the words he typed in that demonic email to close his eyes. His lids are heavy and he can almost feel his dark circles puffing up. He turns to his left to see Joy peacefully dozed off, her body rolled into the blanket that she stole halfway through the night. Johnny didn’t bother trying to fight his way into the blanket, he knew better than to disturb his best friend’s sleep.

When Johnny turns again, his phone is looking right back at him in silent defiance. It's screaming at Johnny to pick it up if he wasn’t a coward.

First of all, Johnny is most definitely a coward. Second, overpriced electronics don’t speak.

It takes Johnny exactly twelve minutes of glaring at his phone to grab it from his bedside table and unlock it. He’s met with a swarm of notifications, but there’s only one that catches his eyes. The small (1) next to his Gmail icon makes his heart jump; his hands are suddenly sweating.

 

_From: zeropercent@gmail.com_

_To: irregular127@gmail.com_

_Congratulations! You’re officially the only one in this damned town with enough balls to answer my distress signal. What a gentleman. And please, don’t be nervous. There’s nothing more punk rock than two gay boys anonymously emailing back and forth about their feelings._

Johnny chuckles.

_I’m glad you’re willing to play my little game; if you don’t fall in love with my answers, you’ll appreciate my sense of humor. I spend a lot of time crafting my punch lines. Anyways, enough beating around the bush. The first question says “Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”_

_I lowkey have too many guests I’d love to have. Also, can we pick dead people? Because I’d have the most rock’n’roll dinner table. Can you imagine eating your chicken, while sitting across from Prince, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin? That would be pretty dope._

_Otherwise, I’d go for the most stereotypical answer and choose the cast of Queer Eye. We’d share sad sob stories from the closet, try to make the world better, and eat Antoni’s avocado.  (No offense, but the guy isn’t much of a cook… although he’s definitely a snack.)_

_What would be your selection? Also, what should I call you? Calling you Irregular would be weird and don’t count on me to call you my potential gay sweetheart. At least not yet ;)_

_Zero._

 

**(4)**

 

There are three things Johnny loves more than anything: Photography, the peanut butter and chocolate smoothie from Jamba Juice, and having a day where at least one thing goes according to his plans. Johnny’s not one to be anal over every single aspect of his life, far from it. But some order sometimes is more than welcome. It can be as small as hitting the target when he plays trashcan basketball with a crumpled up piece of paper or being able to finish the entirety of his lunch before the bell rings. He just wishes his life doesn’t just become a series of unfortunate events.

“What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?” Zero’s email reads. The latter’s answer is as wholesome as the rest. They’ve been emailing back and forth for a week now, and Johnny’s curiosity is at its peak. Zero is funny, charming, and he's so unsettlingly relatable that Johnny almost feels like he’s talking to someone he's known all his life.

 

_From: irregular127@gmail.com_

_To: zeropercent@gmail.com_  

_Dear Zero,_

_I wouldn’t say I didn’t see your answer coming, it really doesn’t take much to make you happy, now does it? I don’t have a passion as torrid as yours is for dancing, but if I did have to pick, I’d go for photography._

_My perfect day would go something like this. “It’s a Saturday morning and my biological clock doesn’t wake me up at the ass crack of dawn. I wake up to the smell of chicken and waffles, and maybe to some Ed Sheeran playing in the kitchen. (I know you’re currently judging my music tastes, please stop…). I run downstairs and for once, I actually remember that our tiles are slippery as fuck, so I don’t slip down the stairs._

_The weather is perfect outside, and my best friend isn’t making me wait for her for hours. We go out for pictures and lunch outside. When I come back home, there’s an acceptance letter waiting for me, and all is good.”_

_How’s that for a perfect day? I could definitely make it as a writer, admit it._

_Have a queer ass day,_

_SYH_

 

**(7)**

 

When Johnny’ first approached by Ten after school, there’s a conflicted feeling forming in his gut. It’s the same feeling that kept him up all night a week ago. It's the same one that pushed him to form this semblance of a friendship he has going on with Zero.

There’s not a soul at school who doesn’t know who Ten is. He’s this loud, boisterous presence that no one can disregard. He's a ray of sunshine in their miserable town, and the kid that every parent wishes they’d had. There’s something about Ten that Johnny can’t quite trust. No one can be that perfect unless there was a pact with a demon somewhere in there; it's the only way Ten can juggle the student school board, the drama club, and perfect grades in each one of his classes.

“Hi, um…” Ten pauses, seemingly trying to remember Johnny’s name. It stings a little bit. “You’re Joy’s friend right?” Ten tries to redeem himself, and his face contorts into an apologetic grimace when he sees Johnny’s disappointed look. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been very good with names.”

“I’m Johnny.”

“Oh yeah, Johnny, of course. How could I not remember?” Johnny has never been more ready to end a conversation. “I’m sorry, I kind of need someone tall to help me around with some drama props. Lucas is my only tall actor, and of course, he only chose today to end up in detention.” Ten keeps rambling on. “Of course, only if you’re okay with it and you have nothing to do after school… I’m not assuming you have nothing to do or anything… you could be a totally busy guy.” Johnny isn’t sure if Ten is trying to own up to him or if he’s just a bit of a dick.

Of course, Johnny does have important business to tend to. He needs to run home, sit in front of his laptop and wait for hours for that goddamned Gmail notification to light up. Johnny’s a very busy man.

“Sure…”

When Johnny makes it home later this night, it’s around seven and he’s absolutely exhausted. It turned out Ten didn’t only need height, but also brute force, and Johnny’s never felt so out of shape before. And then there’s Ten himself. Johnny guesses the younger isn’t as bad as he’d believed him to be. If anything, his company wasn’t completely detestable.

Alright, scratch that. Ten is an absolute delight to be around, he’s witty and loud, and he makes Johnny laugh so hard his stomach hurts. His eyes crinkle when he smiles, and there’s a slight glint of mischief whenever he’s teasing Johnny. It renders the latter completely defeated. He can’t stay mad at Ten, not when he gives Johnny so much life.

He’s still smiling to himself when he opens his laptop, his hands intuitively moving to open his emails.

 

_From: zeropercent@gmail.com_

_To: irregular127@gmail.com_

_My dearest anon with the most terrible pen name,_

_Your answers are so predictable and yet so endearing; how could you be so wrong? I don’t know about you, but having the body of a 30-year-old with the brain of a 60-year-old screams “walking catastrophe”. Good luck trying to get the gals (or the guys, in our case.)_

_Can you believe that we’re already in question 7? Damn, it’s been a week since you first saved me like the knight in shining armor that you probably aren’t. We should definitely celebrate. I’m currently eating a little celebratory cupcake as I’m typing this, I hope you do the same!_

_"Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?" This is the perfect question to celebrate our one week anniversary._

_Call me crazy, but I have this perfect death planned in my mind, and if I don’t die this way, my ghost will be extremely disappointed. So it starts with me being a star, of course. It’s my last Broadway performance, I salute the crowd, take a bow and leave, teary-eyed at the young and ripe age of 105. The crowd cheers for one last time, they’re crying as well. I can still hear their wailing backstage, as I sip on my overpriced champagne with one of my young and pretty boyfriends. I’m laying down, my other pretty boyfriend is giving me a shoulder massage, while the last one feeds me grapes. It’s blissful and comfortable, and as I drift off to sleep, my heart stops and I just fall asleep forever._

_How’s that for a great death? Of course, you’ll ask me: how the fuck do you just fall asleep forever? Well, I haven’t figured it out yet, but that’s not the point._

_Fabulously yours,_

_Zero._

 

**(12)**

 

Johnny doesn’t remember how exactly he started spending every waking moment with Ten, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re sitting in the bleachers, stealing bits and pieces from each other’s lunches. Ten is talking about the potential theme ideas for prom that the student council is debating. According to Ten, it’s “confidential state classified information." He’s only letting Johnny in on the info because he needs someone to side with him.

“I mean, Riverdale was so last year, and everybody should know that this year, it’s the 80s that get the kids hyped up.” Ten is passionately rambling between large spoonfuls of Johnny’s rice. The latter fails to understand the logic, but he nods nonetheless. The only thing he can focus on is the way Ten’s legs are tucked right against his, and the fact that every time Ten bumps into Johnny’s much larger frame, he feels like combusting.

They’re so close that Johnny can feel the warmth emanating from Ten’s slender body. He still hasn’t figured out why on earth it is affecting him to this extent.

“So, who’s this cute girl that got you all worked up?”

Johnny chokes on his rice.

“I’m guessing she must be really cute if you’re not paying attention to me. Weren't we supposed to be hanging out and catching up?” Ten’s sporting his signature smug sneer when he playfully elbows him right in the ribs, and it hurts more than Johnny likes to admit it.

“No girl, just life.”

 

-

 

_From: irregular127@gmail.com_

_To: zeropercent@gmail.com_

  _Dear Zero,_

_The question was supposed to be about gaining qualities and abilities, not which Avenger you’d want to be. BUT, I’ll fight you for being Iron Man; there can only be one Tony Stark in this town and it’s definitely me._

_To answer your question, I’d love to be able to read people’s minds. I know it sounds sad and all, but I’m really conscious of what people think of me. I guess that’s the reason why I have yet to come out._

_Being a psychic would make me either the best or the absolute worst version of myself, but I’m ready for whichever. So long as I know that people don’t think of me as a loser… or worse, if they don’t even know who I am. Imagine being invisible and not even realizing it._

_Tragically,_

_SYH._

 

**(15)**

 

_From: zeropercent@gmail.com_

_To: irregular127@gmail.com_

_My sweetest S.Y.H_

_It’s been two weeks. When I posted my confession two weeks ago, I didn’t expect anyone to give a shit, let alone keep up with me for this long. Every day, I open my emails hoping you didn’t abruptly decide to say fuck it and ghost me. You’re still here, though, and you’re so cute for it, thank you! Now that we’re done with the gushy shit, let’s get onto the Question Of The Day._

_For a million dollars, Mr. SYH, the question says:  “What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”_

_Honestly, my greatest accomplishment is that I’m still holding on. I still haven’t decided to become a hermit and lock myself in my room to watch musicals for the rest of my life. You have no idea the number of things I have to do to make sure that my family is always proud of me. It’s exhausting, but I’m holding on._

_It also helps that every day when I come home, I have something to look forward to. Your answers make my days._

_Happy two weeks anniversary,_  

_Zero._

 

-

 

To say the Joy is unhappy is an understatement. She’s absolutely fuming when she bangs on Johnny’s front door on Sunday morning, not giving him any time to speak when he opens the door. She’s stomping on the floor as she makes her way into the house and up towards Johnny’s bedroom. Johnny thinks she almost looks like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but he wouldn’t dare make that observation out loud. His best friend would eat him alive.

It’s only when Joy plops herself on Johnny’s bed and the latter is standing right in front of her, his arms crossed against his chest, that she speaks.

“Congrats on finding a new best friend.” She’s pouting now.

“What?”

“How’s it like being BFFs with the popular kid?”

“Wait, are you talking about Ten? He’s not my best friend, we just hang out sometimes. 

There’s a palpable tension in the room. Johnny wants to laugh it out and go right to the part where they go out, grab smoothies, and talk about dumb high school gossip. Unfortunately, he knows Joy and how stubborn she can be when she’s upset. The situation is laughable, but Johnny would never laugh at his friend’s feelings.

Johnny remembers Ten’s “all feelings are valid, even if you think they’re ridiculous or that they make no sense. They’re valid.”

Johnny really appreciates Ten. But that’s not the point.

“Joy, are you upset that I’m spending time with Ten?”

Joy nods and Johnny doesn’t exactly know what to do, ‘what would Ten do?’ Johnny thinks to himself for a split second. Ten would have the perfect words to console her. Johnny, however, has the emotional intelligence of a newborn. He’s more of an awkward hugger than an inspirational speaker. He also wonders what would Zero do in these situations.

He decides to stick with his awkward methods. He knows that at least they work with Joy. Her hands wrap around Johnny’s waist almost instinctively when he hugs her.

It’s a little too forceful. Joy’s face is mashed into his shirt and Johnny’s arms most definitely ruin her hairstyle. It’s weird, but it’s their weird, and they both like it that way.

“You have a crush on Ten, don’t you?” Joy’s face is still awkwardly smushed into Johnny’s large frame, and the sentence comes out muffled and completely out of breath. Johnny has to let go of Joy for a second to let the words register into his brain. He’s completely taken aback, and it all hits him like a passing train right in the face. “... And judging by your stupid face, you didn’t even know it.”

Johnny still doesn’t reply.

“Why do I have to do everything in this house?” Joy sighs, hand patting Johnny’s shoulder in sympathy.

 

**(18)**

 

It doesn’t take Joy more than a couple of days to come to terms with her feelings for Ten; she doesn’t dislike him anymore. Johnny, however, is still processing. His blooming feelings for Zero don’t make the situation any easier.

Johnny is sitting with Ten at Mark’s mom’s coffee place. They’re comfortably nestled in Johnny’s usual table; the second to last with the little crack in the corner. It is practically basking in sunlight at this time of the day. There are two steaming cups of coffee on the table accompanied with two large slices of pies, courtesy of Mark’s mom. “They’re on the house.” She says then quickly adds a cheeky little “for my two favorite teenage boys in this town. Don’t tell Mark I said that,” before making a beeline for the cash register.

“Want to play 20 questions?” Ten’s mouth is full of pie, and Johnny thinks it’s kinda gross, but also kinda endearing.

“Sure.” He has his hands wrapped around the cup and his attention is focused on Ten’s sunlit face and on the way the color of his eyes looks like dripping honey.

They play around for a while, alternating between asking and answering each other’s questions. Johnny feels comfortable enough around Ten to answer the deep questions that the younger has for him.

“What do you want to do after college?”

“Photography. What’s your biggest fear?”

“Being forgotten. What annoys you the most in people?”

It’s fun, and Ten always makes sure the atmosphere doesn’t take a turn for the gloomier.

“Tell me something about yourself that no one knows?” Ten has his face resting on the back on his hands, elbows propped on the table. He looks at Johnny like he’s studying every rise and fall of his face.

“Tough luck; Joy knows everything about me.” Everything except for the fact that I’m falling in love with an anonymous boy that I met on the Internet.

“Everything?” Ten’s eyebrow is raised in suspicion. Johnny nods. “Alright, something no one but Joy knows about you, then.”

“Let’s see… I’ve lived in Korea for a few years when I was a child. Everyone knows that, but a lot of people actually don’t know that I have a Korean name.”

“A Korean name, huh?”

“Yeah, my family in Korea calls me Youngho.”

“Seo Youngho.” Ten repeats for good measure, weighing in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. Johnny likes the way the name rolls off Ten’s tongue. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

_From: irregular127@gmail.com_

_To: zeropercent@gmail.com_  

_Dear Zero,_

_You’re right, I am the type of person that has a lot of awkward moments. None of them is related to my most terrible memory._

_When I was younger, I lived abroad in a house with my parents, my grandparents, my uncle, his wife, and their son. It was one of those large family houses where there was no privacy. My cousin and I grew up together, but for some reason, we never got along. He was the type to throw sand in your eyes in the sandbox. Not the best cousin._

_Every time my parents would buy me something, he’d make sure to break it, tear it apart, or find a way to ruin it beyond repair. One day, they got me this giant Magikarp plushie that I’d been begging them to buy for me for months. It’d take it to school, play around with it, eat with it, sleep with it._

_Long story short, he set fire to my Magikarp in the backyard, then buried it so deep I couldn’t reach it. I was heartbroken. I’m even more heartbroken now that I know that this very plushy is a rare item today and that I could have sold it for $450…_

_Nerdily,_

_SYH._

 

**(26)**

 

_From: zeropercent@gmail.com_

_To: irregular127@gmail.com_

_My sweetest SYH,_

_I’m sorry I haven’t replied in a few days. I’m coming down with a pretty terrible cold. The weather’s been absolutely shitty and it’s taking a toll on my fragile body. And you know what sucks? My family only sees my sickness as an inconvenience. I mean, if I’m sick, how can I be the perfect son they can brag about to their neighbors Deborah and Stanislas?_

_But don’t you worry, I’m already feeling much better and ready to take over the world!_

_Today’s question says: “Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share…”_

_If you were to ask me this question a few weeks ago, I’d have so much to write. But I met someone; a friend whom I feel like I could share my worries and my hopes with. They’re a little oblivious at times, but they mean well, and I can’t wait to share every aspect of my life with them. But I digress._

_My answer would_

_be “I wish I had someone with whom I could share my passion.” All my friends are slobs who can’t dance for shit. I hope you’re a better dancer than them._

_I hope the weather doesn’t get to you too,_

_Zero._

_-_

Ten’s been calling him Youngho lately. It’s weird, and it makes heads turn every single time, but Johnny likes the way Ten pronounces Korean. It’s slightly higher pitched and heavily accented. It’s adorable.

Ten’s also looking at him a lot recently. It’s almost as if the younger was studying every one of Johnny’s moves, actions, and facial expressions. Johnny knows that Ten is very observant in his own way, but the way Ten’s eyes linger on Johnny’s face when he laughs a little too loudly, or when he talks about something slightly personal is unsettling. Johnny tries to pass it off as a joke.

“See something you like?” Ten looks confused for a second, his brows furrow before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“No, I’m just hoping that if I look at you enough, I’ll get used to your ugly face.”

“Just admit you love me and go.” Johnny jokes. He hides his sweaty palms in the pocket of his hoodie.

 

**(31)**

 

It only takes Johnny a little under two months and thirty-one questions to realize that having a crush on two guys at the same time can’t be healthy. Johnny blames it on Arthur Aron and his thirty-first question. Or perhaps he blames Zero. He doesn’t quite know.

 

_From: zeropercent@gmail.com_

_To: irregular127@gmail.com_

_My most wholesome SYH,_

_We haven’t been talking a lot recently. Things have been hectic at school, and for once, I’m having a hard time catching up. I hope you haven’t given up on me just yet. How are things on your end? Do you have any plans for prom? Anyways, there are only a few questions left and it’s scaring me. I’m afraid that you’ll disappear as soon as we’re done, or worse… I’m afraid that you won’t feel anything towards me._

_With the power of god and anonymity on my side, I think I can tell you that I really like you; take it however you like it._

_ANYWAYS. Today’s question is my favorite because you get to compliment me and tell me how amazing of a person you think I am. Of course, I’ll do the exact same._

_I like that you’re such a genuine person. You’re funny, even if you don’t mean to and you make my days a thousand times better. Reading your texts make me feel like I’m catching glimpses of your life and you have no idea how much I wish I could be a part of it. You’re clumsy and awkward and It’s adorable, especially since you’re not afraid to make fun of yourself at times. You’re sweet and supportive and very patient._  

_I also really want to hold your fucking hand._

_I think that’s enough ego boosting for one day,_

_Zero._

_-_

 

“I think I can tell you that I really like you.” Johnny wonders if it’s just a fever dream or if he’s just not read the email properly. So he read it again, and again… and again.

Johnny wants to answer with a wholesome little “I like you too.” Maybe they’ll meet and go on dates and hold hands and do what gay boys do when they like each other. Maybe they’ll finish the rest of the stupid questions sitting across from each other at Mark’s mom’s coffee place, playing footsies under the table and making fun of how ridiculous their answers are. It sounds nice.

The problem is that Johnny thinks of Ten too, and of how he also wants to take the younger on dates and hold hands with him. He wants to kiss Ten after walking him home, and take him to prom and show him off to all his friends.

It doesn’t stop Johnny from typing “I think I like you too” in his email back to Zero.

 

**(36)**

 

_From: irregular127@gmail.com_

_To: zeropercent@gmail.com_

_Dear Zero,_

_We’ve finally reached the last question. So what do you think? Was the theory right? Is it one more point for capitalism? (I’m not even sure that Arthur Aron is pro-capitalism but please humor me…) Since it’s the last time and I’ve officially upgraded from your dear SYH to your dearest gay sweetheart, I’ll do the honors of asking the last question._

_Not trying to steal your thunder or anything, you’ll always be the star. “Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.”_

_I’m gonna use the power of god and anonymity for a second if you don’t mind me._

_Have you ever liked two people at the same time? I met this guy around the same time we started texting each other. I thought he was kind of a dick at first, but he started growing on me like the freaking plague and now I think I like him. Do you see my problem?_

_I like you a lot._

_But I also like him a lot too…_

_Please don’t be disappointed,_

_Tragically yours,_

_SYH._

_-_

 

“You should tell him,” is the answer that Johnny gets a few days later. No dear, no regards; it’s just a dry and crude one-liner that Johnny’s brain doesn’t seem to compute. He’s making his way to the bleachers, where he and Ten usually have lunch. It’s their routine now, and for the first time ever, Ten is already waiting for Johnny, sitting cross-legged and boredly scrolling down his phone.

“You’re late.” Ten says, looking up from his phone to look at Johnny’s out of breath form. He has to crane his neck to meet Johnny’s eyes. “And you’re blocking the sun, sit down.”

“What are you so early for? Did I save a town in my previous life to deserve such a privilege?” It earns him a slap on the shoulder.

“Shut up. The teacher released us early, that’s all.”

For the first time ever, there’s a tension forming in the air and Johnny doesn’t know what to do about it. Ten is looking at him expectantly, almost as if waiting for some sort of explanation that Johnny doesn’t have. He has to go through the past few days in his mind to remember if he’s said anything to offend and upset his friend. Nothing.

He still tries. “Are you upset about what I said about prom the other day?”

Ten’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What? What did you say about prom?”

Nope, not it. They sit in silence for a few minutes. Ten is taking slow spoonfuls of his lunch as he watches the students play football on the grass. Johnny doesn’t know if he looks content or if there really is something going on.

“Hey, Ten. Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” His eyes are still trained on the players.

“You wanted to know something about me that only Joy knows.”

“I wanted to know something about you no one knows. You’re so disappointing.”

“Whatever.” Johnny has to take a deep breath. He feels like he’s back to square one. Like when he first came out to Joy two months ago in the middle of the night. Johnny absolutely hates this feeling. “You’re the second person I’m gonna tell… Maybe the fourth, I’m not sure if my parents know... But hi, I’m gay.”

Ten’s reaction isn’t Joy’s deadpan and her awkward hug, it’s more of a bright smile and a hand on his, easing his nerves. “Same.” Johnny chokes on his spit.

“Can I tell you something that no one knows, now?”

“Finally!”

“I met this guy two months ago.” Johnny pauses to take a look at Ten who finally decides to give Johnny his attention. “We’ve been emailing back and forth for a few months, trying to figure out if this theory really works. He’s really nice and you two have the same sense of humor. I think you guys would get along.”

For some reason, it makes Ten snort.

“Why’re you laughing?”

“No reason. Please continue.”

“Okay, so we’ve been texting and I think I really like him.” Johnny stops again to assess Ten’s facial expression. The latter is all smiles, patiently waiting for Johnny to finish his storytelling. “But I also really like someone else that I met around that time.”

“What a player.”  

“Shut up, I’m trying to get to something here.” The atmosphere is a lot lighter, now. Johnny’s glad that Ten is back to making his obnoxious remarks, and making Johnny’s life pitiful in all the best ways. Johnny really really likes Ten. “My point is that I like you too.”

Ten doesn’t look phased at all. He’s still giving Johnny that smile that he absolutely loves. It’s the one that’s so wide that it feels like it spread into every part of him. His eyes crinkle, and there’s a slight flush blooming on his face. Johnny has to take a second to himself.

“I know.”

“What do you mean you know.”

“You’re so obvious Mr. SYH. Who the hell uses their initials as their pen names?”

“Wait so you’re-”

Ten nods, he’s biting into his lower lip, almost to keep himself from laughing at Johnny’s astonished face.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to drop the game when you told me about your Korean name when we are at the coffee place. You’re so cute.

“I hate you.” Johnny wants to kiss the smugness off Ten’s face.

“No, you don’t. You actually like two versions of me, remember?”

Ten doesn’t give Johnny much time to process a reply. He leans in, calm and collected, to place a soft kiss on Johnny’s lips. It doesn’t last more than a few seconds, and when Ten backs away, Johnny’s eyes are still screwed shut, and the breath he exhales is shakier than he’d like to admit.

“I bet you were curious who Zero was. Please give me your guesses so I can make fun of you and laugh at how wrong you are.”

Johnny has to take a moment to himself because he’s never really thought about it. He was so comfortable hiding behind what Zero - Ten now - called the power of anonymity. Maybe he didn’t want to offend Zero by trying to guess, or maybe he was too scared to ruin their routine. “I didn’t want to assume…”

“Wow, you really are a coward, John.” Ten deadpans before adding, “now that we have this out of the way, I’m gonna read you my answer to the last question.”

“Please don’t…” It’s a little embarrassing, and Johnny doesn’t think he can handle Ten being Zero more than a few minutes at a time.

“Shut up, let me read it.” Johnny’s already dying in secondhand embarrassment. “My dearest Seo Youngho.” Ten makes a pause for added drama. “ I guess we can say that the experiment was a success. Can you believe that two months ago, you became my knight in shining armor? I hope that we can celebrate together. How about Friday afternoon at Mark’s mom’s place? We can try to get a few more free cherry pies out of her.”

Johnny feels like dying.

“To answer the question, I have an issue too, although not as dramatic as your dilemma. I think I like a guy, but he’s an absolute idiot who doesn’t catch on clues. What do you think I should do? Please answer me soon because I’m dying in here…”

“Please stop…”

“Tragically yours,”

“You’re the absolute worst, please stop.”

“Ten.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entire thing while listening to Don't You Want Me by The Human League because both Ten and I are 80s hoes.  
> anyways hi i fucking loved love simon so this happened...  
> pls talk to me on twitter i'm [@lgbtshyuck](https://twitter.com/lgbtshyuck)  
> or [on curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/lgbthyuck)  
> 


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